


Flowers

by Jonah_Smith_907



Series: Some fluff shit, some rough shit. [7]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Barney died, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I don't know how to tag this, M/M, Matt is a little shit but he's also really soft and kind, Matt is a little shit too, Mild Angst, clint is a little shit, how do i stop tagging, in the end there's a tiny bit of smut, omg usually there's a ton of angst in everything I write what is happening, there isn't even angst except for the griefing part, they're also very gay for each other, very tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 10:50:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16283201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonah_Smith_907/pseuds/Jonah_Smith_907
Summary: Clint's brother Barney died. This undoubtedly sucks and there's griefing and a bit of guilt there and even though they weren't close as brothers, Clint feels he needs to bring him flowers to his grave. Those flowers he steals from a pretty garden of a certain Matt Murdock, whom he encounters not much later. It turns out they find each other surprisingly attractive, even though Clint has to somehow tell the stranger that they're on their way to a graveyard.Yes, Matt has a garden in this and yes I saw this prompt on Tumblr, don't judge me I just really liked this idea and I think it worked out very well.





	Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I managed to write a oneshot which didn't turn into five+ chapters. "Loki, a villain" for example was supposed to be a oneshot and now it's got twelve chapters xD

Barney had died two weeks ago. Two entire weeks and it was only now, that Clint heard. One of Barney's gigs had gone wrong and he'd been shot three times in the back; lower, upper and right through the goddamn head. It had taken the police two weeks to identify him – correctly – and finally to find Clint. The latter part hadn't been that difficult, considering that about anyone who didn't live under a rock, knew where the archer lived.

He wasn't overly pleased when two police-officers woke him up at 7am, even though he'd only gone to sleep three hours prior.

He was even less pleased when he found out _why_ he'd been disturbed.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Aw crap. Seriously?”

“Yes, I'm afraid.”, the taller cop said with a slight frown. He seemed a little taken aback by the other man's reaction. Maybe he'd expected a stronger, a more emotional reaction to somebody hearing that his brother had died.

“And you're a hundred percent sure it's Barney Barton??”

“Uh … yes.”

“Oh. Well. Um, thanks then, I guess.” He didn't wait for an answer and just closed the door. For a few minutes he leaned against the cool wood, eyes shut, thoughts racing.

There was absolutely no way Barney was dead. That fucker had always managed to find his way out of complicated situations, no matter what. Maybe he'd just faked his death again. He'd done it before, so why not this time?

But then again, if he'd been in trouble with – other – thugs, he would've just killed them.

So maybe no faking this time.

Clint let out a frustrated huff, pushed himself away from the door and went to the kitchen. There was no use in going back to bed; his thoughts wouldn't let him sleep now. Coffee would be able to bring him through the day just fine, anyway. Probably.

Some time and three cups of coffee later and Clint was sitting on the floor, telling himself he wasn't crying, while tears were running down his cheeks, silent sobs shaking his shoulders.

But eventually it all stopped.

It was as if he was drained of every emotion, leaving him just kind of … there. Empty and cold.

So. Barney was dead then. As in 'buried 6 feet under', gone forever, never coming back to life. Decaying and being devoured by bugs and ants and earthworms, until there was nothing left but bones and rotten flesh, gradually turning to dust, leaving nothing behind but memories. And even though Clint and Barney hadn't been exactly close as brothers, there was no denying that it still _hurt_ to know that he'd never be able to talk to him again, even it it was only to call him an idiot. Nobody left to betray him any more like Barney had.

Although maybe now Clint didn't have to worry about him any more. Whether he'd come and ask for Clint's help, whether he'd call and say he needed money, or whether he'd just show up unannounced and do something stupid. Like that one time, when he'd been on the run, which had led thugs to Clint and had made them believe that the Avenger was Barney. Which had led to quite some confusion and some broken bones. And necks. 

Suddenly Clint realized that he'd need to arrange a funeral. It would be expensive, but he figured he could spend some money on behalf of his brother for one last time.

It was a cruel thought, but it was true.

 

Three weeks later and Clint had visited Barney's grave almost everyday. Maybe he tried to make up for all the times he could have visited his brother but hadn't, because either he hadn't wanted to or because he'd been too lazy or some equally stupid reason. 

He didn't have the time or motivation to buy a bouquet of flowers every second or third day, but luckily he'd found a different solution. Said solution probably wasn't exactly polite or allowed, but as an Avenger, he didn't really care. He was still griefing – or at least that's what he told himself – so he'd thrown the rules out of the window.

That's how it came that one day, just as he'd cut the last flower out of three, that all of a sudden, somebody tapped his shoulder. Or rather something, because when Clint turned around, he saw that it'd been a very handsome man who'd done the poking, by using a stick. He was obviously blind, going by his red tinted glasses and the fact that he was holding said cane. 

He had black hair with a hint of red in it, dark stubble accentuating his sharp jawline. He had broad shoulders and long fingers, the one's of his right hand wrapped around his cane in a delicate manner, although it was clear that they had some strength in them. In his other hand, he was holding a quite pretty bouquet. 

“So, you must be the one who steals my flowers.”, the stranger said with the hint of a smile. His voice was deep and slightly raspy, but in a rather soft way. 

“... no?”, Clint lied. “Course not.”

“No, of course not.” The man smirked, but the way he raised his eyebrows told the archer that he hadn't bought the lie at all, yet still he held out a hand to introduce himself: “Matt Murdock.”

Clint took the hand and replied: “Clint Barton.”

“Ah, Hawkeye.” Matt's smile widened, but it looked slightly … threatening, almost. “I heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope?” It was supposed to sound light and amused, but the anxiety that mixed right into his voice kinda ruined that effect. He only had to think about the battle of New York and already a wave of adrenaline surged through his body.

For some reason, he got the impression that Matt picked up on his uneasiness, because his expressions softened, as he answered: “Of course. You're an important member of the Avengers.”

“...really?” The archer raised a brow in doubt.

“Oh yes, certainly. Your skills are admirable. Also you're handsome.”

Clint turned a nice shade of crimson at that last part, taken by surprise at the sudden compliment. In fact, he got so confused for a second, that he had the audacity to ask the following question: “How do you know? You're blind.”

For some reason, Matt didn't seem to have taken offence by it, for his kind smile grew wider, into something slightly naughty, but still gentle. “There are other ways to see.” He cracked a bright grin as he continued: “Also my friend Foggy described you to me. He said you are a very handsome, strong sunny boy, who can, and I quote, 'shoot his loads without looking', which I find rather remarkable.”

Had Clint been drinking at that particular moment, he would have choked on it. As it was, he refrained to staring at the other man in utter disbelief, his mouth hanging wide open. “Um.”, he intelligently began. “I did not expect that.”

“Not many people do.”, Matt grinned. “People underestimate the dirty humour of blind lawyers.” Then he suddenly took Clint by the elbow and led him out of the garden. He ignored the archer's surprised yelp and instead said: “Now. I am aware of the fact that my flowers are quite pretty, Foggy told me that on several occasions. But I sure hope the person they're for is important enough to warrant flower theft.”

“Are … are you expecting me to take you there now?” Clint shifted uncomfortably in the other one's grip, but started walking nonetheless. How on earth was he supposed to break it to him, that they were currently on their way to a graveyard?

“Oh yes.”

“... they're for my brother.”, he tentatively offered, in the hopes of signalling how … intimate their destination really was.

To his relief, the beautiful stranger nodded thoughtfully before asking: “Were you close?”

Clint shook his head no. “Not really, but he's still my brother, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Matt squeezed Clint's elbow as they walked on in silence.

Their rather strange acquaintance had taken an even stranger twist and had now turned somewhat melancholic; something like a sad but comfortable calm hung between them.

After roughly five minutes they reached the cemetery.

They walked past a few rows of graves, until Clint stopped in front of one. He knelt down in front of it and gently stroked the engraving on the tombstone, that read: 

_Charles 'Barney' Bernard Barton_  
_04.08.1976 – 15.08.2018_  
_Beloved Brother_

The archer lay down the flowers, carefully arranging them, so that their bright colours stood in contrast to the cool stone and the dark soil.

For a few minutes the two men remained silent, until Clint huffed out a soft laugh. “He was an asshole.”, he murmured with a smile. “Caused a lot of trouble. And even though he wasn't very nice to me, I still miss him.”

Matt didn't seem very shocked by that statement, he just nodded with a faint smile himself, absently stroking one of the flowers in his bouquet. “I know just what you mean.”, he said equally quietly and shortly reached out to squeeze the other one's shoulder. “And I'm sure he understands, too.”

“Yeah?” Clint thought about that for a moment. Then he got up and turned around, giving the taller man a curious look. “Do you belief in the afterlife?”

“I believe in heaven and hell.”, he simply answered. He slowly started walking, away from the grave, waiting for the other one to follow, before he continued. “And I believe that everybody gets what they deserve. But wherever your brother is, I'm sure he understands your conflicted emotions.”

“That's actually a pretty nice thought.” Clint gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Matt returned the smile. Then he stopped at a different grave. At Clint's questioning look, he explained: “This is where my father lays. He died when I was nine.”

“Oh.”

Matt shrugged and leaned down, feeling around for a bit before putting down his flowers, one hand lingering on the cold stone for a moment as he got back up. He took off his glasses and held them with both hands, as he said a silent prayer. He looked peaceful at that moment, and so very calm. 

After another moment of silence, he said: “I visit him every Sunday.”

“That's is very kind of you.”, Clint quietly informed the other man, before he continued: “Is that why you didn't confront me about the flowers earlier, though?”, he asked, and added, slightly mockingly: “Or did you just not notice?”

“Oh I noticed the very first time but didn't say anything. And then Foggy came along and said you're cute, so I thought I'd talk to you and find out who you are.” Again they started walking, but this time in the direction of the exit.

“I thought you knew who Hawkeye is?”

“Yes, but I wanted to know who Clint Barton is, too.”

“And do you like that guy?”

Matt dropped his gaze and smiled. “Yes.”, he simply said. “Though I didn't expect us to end up on a graveyard.”

“Well where did you expect us to end up?”, Clint smirked, leading the blind man off the cemetery.

“With each other's number, for one. And maybe with a cup of coffee or something.”

“That sounds great, actually.”

“I know a great place just around the corner.” Matt could barely contain the grin that spread on his face, making him glow with excitement and happiness. He looked so astonishingly beautiful, Clint couldn't help but mirror the expression as they walked down the street. 

 

It was about three weeks later, when things took a turn. Not necessarily for the better or the worse, but it was certainly an interesting turn.

Clint and Matt had agreed to meet at Clint's place to hang out and maybe watch a movie. The archer had been worried that a movie would be boring for Matt, but the lawyer had insisted that it would be great fun for both of them, if Clint narrated what was happening. So they had agreed on the film 'Pets' – and Matt was late.

When he finally did knock on the door, five minutes late, he was leaning against the doorframe with an apologetic smile. He looked exhausted. “Sorry I'm late.”, he said and walked inside, grimacing slightly when he moved in a wrong way.

“What happened??”, Clint asked, concern lacing his voice, as he was immediately hovering at Matt's side, ready to help him, should he trip. That possibility wasn't even that far fetched, considering how slow and deliberately the other man was walking.

“I ran into a door.”, Matt explained with a sheepish smile.

“Yeah I doubt that.” Clint steered him to the couch and sat him down, his heart jumping when the lawyer let out a pained groan. He sat down beside him. “Let me see!”

“What, no!” He clutched his side protectively, but Clint swatted his hands away.

“Let me see, I wanna know whose ass I have to kick!”

Matt let out an annoyed huff, but complied and lifted his shirt to reveal a massive bruise on the left side of his stomach, red and blue and angrily screaming at Clint. His breath hitched in shock, and Matt gently forced the shirt back down with another faint smile. “You should see the other guys.”

“...guy _s_?? Matt … what's going on?” The archer carefully took the other one's hands into his, running his thumbs over his rough knuckles. For the first time he really noticed the broken skin, as if he punched things regularly. “I'm worried.”

Matt sighed. He knew he had to tell him eventually, so he might as well do it now, before it got more painful. “I'm sorry. I just … I didn't want you to know what I'm about to tell you. I didn't want you to think less of me.”

“I could never think less of you. That's just dumb.” He squeezed the lawyer's hands and added: “I'm not gonna tell anyone, promise.”

Matt took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, before he looked up and missed Clint's eyes just by a couple inches. “I'm Daredevil.”, he announced, anxiously squeezing back the Avenger's hands.

For a few moments, the archer just stared in shocked silence. Then he cracked a smile. “I mean I can't say I saw that one coming, but honestly, I'm not mad.”

“... you're not?” Matt blinked.

“No. I mean I'm not overly happy that you put yourself in danger like that and I can't even begin to understand how you do it, but I'm not mad. At least now I know you can protect yourself.”

“I guess that's one way to put it.” He let out a soft chuckle.

“So, you gonna tell me how you do it?” Clint gave the other one a sly look with a hint of something … else. Damn near close to seductive.

Of course Matt picked up on it and grinned deviously. “I have enhance senses.” He leaned forward, until his lips brushed over Clint's hair, his breath hot on the archer's ear, as he whispered: “That means I can hear your heartbeat from two stories down.” He moved down to Clint's neck and inhaled his scent, noting with satisfaction how the archer started shifting on the couch. “I can smell the dog you petted two days ago” He took Clint's hand in his and guided it to his own neck, while he murmured: “I can feel your fingerprints on my skin” He leaned in and pressed a gentle, but firm kiss on Clint's lips, until he parted them and allowed Matt to explore his mouth, letting out a soft moan, before the lawyer retreated a tiny bit, just enough so their noses weren't touching and breathed: “And I can taste that you drank nothing but coffee all day.”

For a brief moment Clint seemed lost for words. Then he stuttered out a broken “Fuck” and finally managed to choke: “Fuck, that's so hot!”

Matt pulled his lips into a teasing smirk. “You wanna continue this?”

“Oh god, yes, please!”

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you thought of this and tell me in the comments :D thanks for reading!!


End file.
